A New Era: The 90th Hunger Games
by Littlefoot-is-Futureproof
Summary: See the Hunger Games through the eyes of Marlin Noble, the male tribute from District 4. It might seem predictable that someone who has trained for the games their entire life would come home a celebrity in no time. That the games would be easy for them. But one thing Marlin has to learn is that no one who goes into the arena emerges as the person they were before.
1. Sinking Feelings

Amber sunlight glowing through my window curtains is the first thing I see when my eyes slowly struggle to open and focus. My entire body feels sore, but I bear with it while I rub my eyes and sit up in my bed. I spent the first half of yesterday fishing by the shore, and the second half in a meeting with the head trainers at the academy. I, Marlin Noble, have been selected to volunteer as the male tribute to represent District 4 this year for the 90th annual Hunger Games. I wasn't surprised or caught off guard by it; if I didn't think I would make it this far then I wouldn't have bothered with training in the first place. I lay back down on my pillow deciding that I owe it to myself to relax a little after all the hard work that got me to this point. Today is the day.

I've always envied the kids who could afford to train in the academy because their parents own the big shops in town. They're so stuck up that they hardly associate with the kids who live in nearby fishing villages. I, like a little over half of the others there, have to spend hours and hours on boats near the beach casting nets or fishing rods out into the water to afford it. Even with my parents' help. I've always hated it. Not only does the smell of fish never really seem to leave my hands, but District 4's relentless sunny weather nearly always burns my pale skin. My 15 year old sister, Madeline, teases me to no end after especially long days in the heat. "Crab" is her most often used nickname for me She says I'm just as red and grumpy as one after work. She fishes as well, but she was blessed with our mothers genes when she got her almost golden skin that simply darkens in the summer. However, the job itself is no easier for her in any other way. I'm both annoyed and amazed at her ability to stay positive during long days on the water. If I hadn't dropped out of school to train for the games I would be spending every minute of my life with her. I cringe at the thought and silently thank her for _not_ wanting to join the academy. She's always excelled in school so she never really had a reason to. She's on the right track to become a marine biologist like she wants. I, on the other hand, did average in school, which only meant one thing. I'd be stuck on the massive ships they send miles and miles away for who knows how long in search of fish we don't have nearby. That's what my father does and sometimes it'll be months before he gets back. He doesn't talk much about it, but whenever he does he has nothing good to say. At least he makes it back every time, which is more than I can say for a lot of others that sail away. The academy was my only way to get out of the industry. I had to take it.

With my room already heating up and getting claustrophobic, I sense it's time to get up. _Why couldn't they start the games in winter? I'm going to be a sweaty mess by the time I'm up on the stage!_ I don't hear any water running in the next room over, so I seize the opportunity and take the outfit I picked out to the bathroom before anyone else claims the shower. My dark brown hair is sticking up in all different directions so I lazily attempt to smooth it down while I turn the knob that starts a stream of cold water. I take off my pajamas and step into the spray. Relief from the muggy warm air doesn't last long before it turns into hand numbing torture. This is why I tend to spend a brief amount of time in here. Within 5 minutes I'm drying off and putting on the only clothes I've ever owned that could be considered "nice". It takes two attempts to button up the solid maroon dress shirt. _What could an extra button at the bottom possibly be needed for?_ The smell of bacon coming from the kitchen is something I hadn't noticed earlier, but it's practically calling to me now. We never have delicacies like what my mom planned for breakfast this morning. She usually doesn't cook entire meals for the family most of the time but she insisted that we have breakfast as a family since this would be our last one for a while. After one last glance in the mirror, I push my still wet hair slightly to the side so it sits at about an inch over my eyebrows and then make my way down the hall.

My heart nearly skips a beat when I see the table. There's 4 plates, one on each side of it, all loaded up with eggs, pancakes, bacon, and completed with a glass of orange juice on the side. This definitely tops the hard lumpy rolls and seaweed we usually eat in the morning. "Good morning. How's our volunteer doing today?" My mother smiles as she says the word "volunteer". It seems that she has been more excited about this than I am since I told my parents about my volunteering a week ago.

"Hungry." I laugh as I pick up my fork and tear off part of the fried egg on my plate.

"Perfect, because there's extra bacon on the counter if you want more." Her voice is so cheery that it feels almost unnatural. My mother is usually not someone I would describe as happy or lively even, but she's doing a good job with acting today. Most of the time she only shows real emotion when she's angry with someone.

Madeline takes a bite of her pancakes and with her mouth still full says, "I helped with the eggs. Your welcome." My sister doesn't sound as enthusiastic about all of this. She's never really supported me training to begin with. She said it was foolish and dangerous. I don't think she expected me to excel at it.

"Thank you." I manage to say with my mouth still full of the rich breakfast food.

My father finally walks into the kitchen and sits down at the table. I can't remember the last time we all sat down at the table like this for breakfast. It almost feels like I'm part of a picture perfect family rather than one filled with my mother's fake smiles and my father's naturally stoic demeanor. No wonder they don't really get along. "So is there anything you can tell us about your strategy?" he mutters. The lack of lift in his voice makes it barely sound like a question. I can tell he's only asking because he's worried about me. Him and Madeline both are, and they show it in very similar ways.

"Sorry there's a lot I'm not supposed to tell you guys." I apologize looking around the table. "Plus, I want it to be a surprise. I can promise that I _will_ be coming back in one piece though." I try to drop the topic on a high note.

The real reason I don't want to tell them my entire strategy is because the volunteering system is taken incredibly seriously. The whole thing is very secretive, and even though I'm with my family in my own home, I'm still afraid that somehow the academy will hear that I've been blabbing about what we do. I could lose my sponsorship from the academy at the least, and there could be a little "accident" with my parents or Madeline at the most. There was a girl a few years ago who hadn't been selected to volunteer but did anyway. Her sister coincidentally went missing while the games were airing. Not that the idiot even came back from the Capitol to miss her anyway. Technically training is illegal, but there's no way the Capitol isn't involved in our training academy somehow.

Being lost in my head, I barely noticed the awkward silence that followed my statement. I know I can make it back home, but no one else at the table has the same unshakeable faith in me. Even my over-enthusiastic mother. "I'm gonna finish getting ready." Madeline says flatly.

She looks like there's nothing left for her to "get ready" since she's already wearing the pastel pink sundress she's had for nearly every reaping. And there's still so much food on her plate, so I know she's only leaving it to make a point. That point being that she still doesn't approve of my choice to compete in the games. She could be so annoying like that sometimes. I wolf down my food, uncomfortable sitting with both of my parents by myself for too long. "Thanks for cooking, mom." I've always been pretty good at making the things I say sound authentic, but my thank you sounds hollow.

Since we have to walk nearly a half hour to get to the square, it's time to leave. The Capitol tries to have all the reapings within a certain timeframe, and District 4 has one of the earliest ones. Small talk is rough the whole way there. How could it not be? All I can think about is how I'm going to present myself today. These are the very last moments that the entire country of Panem will go without knowing my name. Everything from here on out will be publicized, criticized, and used to pull in sponsors. I have to calculate everything carefuly. The mentors at the academy and I worked up an angle to play, most of which we studied and went over multiple times last night. I have to be outgoing with high energy. Luckily humor comes naturally to me most of the time. They said I'm attractive enough to try flirting with the audience, and as much as I don't really want to, I know it's probably a smart move. I've never been quite the romantic type. I didn't have time to form a real relationship with a girl. The few times I tried didn't last long. I hope this angle still works for me when I look down and see small wet patches on my shirt under my arms. It's always way too hot on reaping days.

I can see the massive industrial looking canopy that hangs over the front of the Justice Building. Light filters through the top, but it's only enough to see clearly without baking in the sunlight. I break away from my family all too quickly at the sight of relief from the sky. I check in, have my finger pricked, and make my way to the 17s' section in a flash. The space is nearly full and the amount of people making their way to the square is dwindling. I've gotten here just in time. As usual, I'm surrounded by strangers or people I've seen around but never talked to. The only people I've ever considered to be my friends have usually been a couple years older than me. And in such a big district, it's hard to find friends in the crowd sometimes anyway. I think of what it would be like if we weren't separated by age and gender right now. I'd be able to stand next to Madeline, which is something I unusually wish I could do. Now that I think about it, she's the best friend I have, even if she annoys the hell out of me most of the time. It seems like all my nervousness and apprehension about this day has saved itself until this very moment. What a terrible feeling to have right as I see the mayor walk up to the podium on the stage.

He reads the long and boring history of the country. I don't see why it's necessary here where we all know the story and the games are more of a celebration than a punishment. Before long, the aged mayor is reading down the list of our past victors. Both living and dead. Currently, there are only Two left alive out of the 7 we've ever had. The third quarter quell took out 2, and shortly after, Annie Cresta took her life as well. Ron Stafford, a stern looking middle aged man who won the 68th games, looks bored with the repetitive process. Almost like the whole thing is further graying his dusty dark hair as the mayor speaks. Sitting next to him is Siren Reynolds, attractive girl with mocha colored skin who won the 84th games at 16 years old. She looks almost unchanged from the way she was 6 years ago. The mayor finishes the list, and the crowd responds with roaring applause. The thought of myself being up there next year and hearing the same applause is enough to replace some of my nervousness with anticipation. As the noise dies down, he introduces our escort.

I think Navia Garnish is young, in her early 20s, but it's hard to tell with Capitolites. They appear to be in the same age range for most of their lives. It's only her third year coming to our district, so I have no real way of knowing. Her skin has been consistently dyed blue for her appearances here. She's definitely going for a theme to match our district. To me, the blue just makes it look like she's been holding her breath for too long. Her dress is long and covered in what looks like reflective scales of all different colors. They almost look like precious jewels. In all my years on the beach I've never seen a real live fish with scales that bright. She smiles wide before speaking into the microphone. "Welcome, District 4, to The 90th Annual Hunger Games!"

Her enthusiasm is matched with a roar from the crowd. "I know you're all just as eager as I am to see who our lucky competitors will be this year." She says with a thick Capitol accent. "Time for the boys."

She reaches her hand in the bowl of slips slowly, as if it actually matters who get picked. Everyone knows that whoever goes in won't be the owner of the name she draws. "Reed Coelho!" She shouts triumphantly.

I don't even have time to look around for who reacts before my hand shoots up in the air. "I volunteer!" I practically scream.

Heads are always turned towards the front section of teenagers, where the older ones stand. Where I stand. That's where volunteers typically come from. If anyone in the crowd wasn't looking at me before, they definitely are now. I can feel it. I can feel my heart beating faster than I knew it could go, and as a result I can feel my face heating up and turning red. I see Navia's eyes locked on me and then I feel my legs moving me closer to the stage. At the top, I immediately search the crowd for Madeline's face and quickly give up when I see the sheer size of the crowd from higher ground. It's almost like it's grown since I shouted. "And what is your name?" Navia asks excitedly as she reaches to shake my hand.

"My name is Marlin Noble, and it's going to be an honor to represent District 4 this year." The rehearsed line falls from my mouth and sounds the same as it did when I first perfected it. I peer into the crowd of boys in front of me, finding nearly as many scowls from the other trainees as I see smiles from everyone else.

"And it will be an honor to be your escort." the blue woman in front of me chimes in. The crowd claps again, though less loudly than the times before. The jealousy from all the other academy boys definitely shows. "Now it's time for the girls." Navia moves over to the other bowl full of paper slips. Nearly the exact same way as before, she pulls out a girl's name. "Piper Ringer" I don't recognize the girl's name either, but I don't have long to think about it before a hand shoots up from the group of 16s.

"I volunteer as tribute!" It sounds more shrill than courageous. I see heads turn toward the noise and find her quickly. She's short, probably about 5 foot 4. It's not often we get volunteers younger than 17 either. Why did they choose her? I've never even noticed her at the academy either. She shares strikingly similar features to our most recent victor, Siren, but looks significantly weaker. Their hair is the same color and is styled wavy, pushed to the side. Did this girl dye her hair? When she gets up to the stage, she looks even smaller somehow. Maybe it's the fact that I stand over half a foot taller than her.

"Would you like to introduce yourself to our viewers?" Navia prods.

"Yes I would, thank you. I'm Ciera Black." I'm shocked that she doesn't share Siren's last name. Apparently she's just trying to look like her. Boring. There's no way she can work well with what's already been done when she gets to the Capitol. I discover that her voice isn't shrill because she's nervous, she's perfectly calm. I should be glad that I'm so much stronger than my district partner since I'll have less competition, but in this district it can also be a death sentence. It's kind of an unspoken rule that volunteers from districts 1, 2, and 4 stick together. It's why our districts win so often. Rogue volunteers hardly ever come back. I'm so angry with the academy for picking such a pathetic teammate for me, but I still smile for the cameras. I have to be likeable and I'm lucky that the audience can't see how hard I'm clenching my teeth.

"What a lovely name." our escort compliments her. Is she being serious? I can't tell. "Let's all give a warm welcome to our tributes, Marlin Noble, and Ciera Black!" Navia grabs mine and Ciera's hand and lifts them up in the air. We bow together and the sounds from the audience are deafening. I can still hear them cheering as we all walk into the doors of the Justice Building. The games haven't even begun and all I think about as I'm escorted to my waiting room is how much I'm already set back by district partner. I did everything I was supposed to. Unbelievable. I don't deserve this.

* * *

 **Hi, technically this is my first fic I've uploaded. I kind of attempted the same one almost a year ago but it suuucked so I lost motivation. I have since tweaked a lot of details and I'm feeling a lot more confident about this one. Pls leave reviews. I swear I'm finishing this one to the very end. I might also start an SYOT on the side if I feel I'm able to. Also, I have a loose storyline planned out for this one but it's easy to change things as I go along, so if you wanna submit a tribute or character that you would like to see in this story (or any others that could come up) just pm me c: I hope you enjoy**


	2. Sinking Deeper

I sit down on the plush chair that's placed right next to the large window. There are no lights in the room, so the natural light gives every color an orange tint. I've never been in a room so plush and beautiful at the same time. I sink into the seat and await my first visitor. I don't really have to wonder who it will be since pretty much all of my friendships with people are very shallow. They feel more like people I associate with than people I genuinely want to be around. I'd hate the days I spend on a boat even more if they were silent, so I have to fill the space with conversations neither me or the others will remember by the time we get home. I also just spend most of my life working or training anyway. Building up a meaningful relationship would just take too much time and effort that I don't have to give.

The door opens before my mind can wander too far and over-analyze the way I interact with people. All at once, both of my parents and Madeline hurry into the room. It fits all of us easily, which is more than I can say for any room in our house. Except for maybe the combined kitchen and living room. "Three minutes." The peacekeeper by the door motions in the doorway.

The three of them shuffle around awkwardly finding empty seats. My mother and father share the loveseat while Madeline sits next to me in a chair identical to mine. I feel slight relief and also a little offended by the fact that they don't hug me. This is going to be their last time seeing me for at least the next few weeks. I've never been the touchy-feely type, but I think this situation calls for at least some form of affection. "You forgot this at home." My sister holds out her open hand, and in it sits a smooth and round piece of aqua colored sea glass. My district token.

Madeline and I used to collect sea glass all the time until we discovered that there was tons of it just a little further south of our fishery. I remember when I was about 5 years old we started going to the recreational area of the beach with our parents. we thought it was a precious stone, but our father told us it was just barely worth more than any other stone you could dig out of the sand. Whenever I see a piece it reminds me of when the bay was a place for swimming with my sister or drawing in the sand rather than trying to fill my quota of fish I'm supposed to catch for the day. In the Capitol, it will remind me of the pieces of home that I want to come back to. "Thank you." I take the stone from her and she grabs my hand to pull me in for a hug. I guess someone _does_ care that I'm leaving. And that I might not even come back. I push the doubt somewhere far away from my thoughts as quickly as it appears. I can't think that way if I actually plan on winning.

"Try to make it home quickly." She quietly says.

"Yeah, who's gonna be the man of the house when dad's at work?" My mother chimes in and laughs. I know she's only joking, but I can't help but feel annoyed by the question. And how long does she think I'm going to be gone?

"I'm sure you'll manage." I reply with a smile, but it sounds so blatantly cold. Leave it to my mom to make this about her and how _she_ will go on while I'm the one fighting in the arena. I can tell she wasn't trying to be irritating, but the events of today have left me high-strung. My father sits slouched back on the couch silently. I think the sentiment of these goodbyes has been ruined.

I've been noticing for a couple years now how distant my parents are getting from each other, and even from me and Madeline. My volunteering has been like a magnifying glass, showing me every little reason for the now rapidly growing distance. We as a family can't deal with big events apparently. I can see my mother's inability to genuinely care about anything that doesn't directly affect her. My father's unwillingness to partake in most activities. He used to be better. Back before he had been reassigned to a new job to leave on our district's fishing trips. I hardly know anything about what goes on out there, but once he told me that the peacekeepers onboard are cruel. Crueler than the worst we have at home. It makes sense that they would be, considering they don't have neighbors to see the atrocities committed by them out at sea. My father never told me a lot of stories from the voyages, but the most chilling one was about a man who was starving due to the ship being out longer than expected with no extra food. They didn't have nearly enough to last them the whole way back home. After lunch in the ships cafeteria, the poor man was caught hoarding extra food in his bunker. He was shot less than a minute after the discovery and then his body was thrown overboard. Murders like those don't get explained officially, they're only described as a "work related fatality".

Since it's obvious that this won't be a heartfelt goodbye so much as a formality, I use the remaining time I have with them to explain what I want them to do while I'm in the Capitol. We don't have a lot of money, so having them sponsor me is out of the question. The best thing they can do for me is talk me up when I make it to the final 8 and the reporters come to the district to interview my friends and family. I'm confident in my ability to act in front of the cameras and get people to like me, but I'm not so sure about my parents. I tell them to just keep the conversation focused on me and they won't have to worry about their own presentation since the spotlight will remain somewhere else. I add in that they should talk to their friends and coworkers about me as well to get me extra support from the district citizens. Nearly every year, one of the two tributes from District 4 is significantly favored by the people back home. While I know that the academy will help with sponsoring me, it couldn't hurt to have a little extra sponsor money to fall back on. I have just enough time to give them the run down before the peacekeeper escorts them out of the room. I feel a bit of relief followed by a sickening emptiness. There's a possibility that that was the last time I'll ever see them. The distance betweem me and my family would never shrink or be resolved. Do I even want it to be? I already know no one else will come and visit me. That really sinks in when I'm left in the silent room to wait. There's a twinge of regret. Would I have connected on a deeper level with someone if I hadn't spent all my life preparing for the games? I guess it doesn't matter because everything from this point onward has to be focused entirely on my strategy.

I think back to Ciera, my district partner. My thoughts are more rational now that I'm in the privacy of the Justice Building, hidden from the dozens of cameras outside. I can't underestimate this girl. The academy doesn't pick just anyone. If her idea is to copy the appearance of a previous victor (which is probably one of the dumbest angles I could think of), then there has to be a damn good reason she was selected to volunteer despite that. Her combat skills must be among the highest in the district. I can't understand how I never noticed her at the academy. If I want to take her down, I'll have to wait until the games have dragged on long enough for her lack of sponsor gifts to weaken her. If I'm right about her skills, then I'm keeping her close to my side for as long as I can. She might not have a lot of physical strength, but with a weapon, she could be useful to me in a fight.

I'm only slightly bothered by my own planning to kill Ciera. Out of the 23 other tributes I'll be facing in the arena, her death will be the hardest on me. I already know it. She's from home and she's not like the outer district kids. They taught us at the academy about how the games aren't just sport. The Treaty of Treason that gets read at the beginning of every reaping explains that the games were first introduced as a punishment for the districts. Districts 1, 2, and 4 all started training kids for the games a few years after they were enacted. The districts willing to train and compete are keeping the country in balance by cooperating. The others are all dangerous. It's simply an act of rebellion to refuse to partake in the games. I've seen so many kids over the years get literally dragged up to the stage after their name is called. It's the subtly rebellious actions like those that pose a threat to everyone in Panem's very lives. A revolution would be more destructive and deadly than every game combined, and I have no sympathy from people who are too stupid and selfish to just cooperate to prevent it.

The subtle scent of must in the room begins to get more stale every minute I'm stuck sitting in this room and I'm left to wonder how long I've been in here. Ten or twenty minutes? How many people could possibly be visiting Ciera if I've never heard of her before? I don't have to wonder long before the door opens again without warning, revealing two peacekeepers. The ones who will be escorting me to the train. "Come with us." the taller of the two commands me in a monotone voice.

I haven't spent too much of my time in the district square, but I've been here enough times to recognize the peacekeepers that patrol the area. The ones that walk on either side of me aren't them. They definitely came all the way from the Capitol. The place that I'll be arriving at in 24 hours at most. Tributes from districts farther away must already be on their trains. I'm curious, buzzing with excitement, and just a little bit scared if I'm being honest with myself. I've never seen anything outside of the fence that surrounds District 4.

* * *

After the incredibly short ride to the train station, the car I'm sitting in is surrounded by an ocean of reporters. The flashing lights from the cameras don't allow me to see much aside from what's directly out the window. I wouldn't have any idea where I was if I didn't already know where I was headed in the first place. I silently thank the peacekeeper that opens the door and escorts me through the bustling station. Ciera, Navia, and I make our way toward the shiny silver train ahead of us. I think it's the only scenario where being surrounded by peacekeepers is comforting rather than petrifying. I make sure to smile and maintain as much eye contact with different cameras as I can. They said at the academy that doing so would engage the audience and draw more attention to me. I steal a glance at one of the screens showing live footage of me and I'm shocked at how attractive I manage to look. It might sound a little bit egotistical, but it's true. I've always thought of myself as slightly appealing, which isn't much compared to previous volunteers who were completely stunning, but my face just looks so much better when it's on screen. I'm hopeful that it's enough to outshine Ciera, who I notice is doing the same thing I am. I give the audience a wink before I set foot in the door of the train.

On its own, the door of the train slides closed behind the three of us once we're onboard. The train doesn't waste a second before it starts moving. In moments, it's already moving faster than the car we arrived at the station in. My eyes immediately dart to the window, watching all my fans and reporters move behind us faster and faster. "Fantastic, isn't it? Just wait until we pass by the mountains. It's spectacular!" I hear Navia chittering behind me. "Allow me to show you to your rooms."

Ciera and I follow the blue haired woman down a narrow corridor. We pass by door after door, each made of the same deep red wood adorned with gold trimming. Finally we stop in front of one. "This is your room, Marlin." Navia opens the door for me. "Yours is just a bit further this way. There will be food in the dining car within the hour."

Ciera follows her and they disappear into the next car over. Stepping into the room that will only be my home for about a day, I wonder how they managed to fit so much onto such a seemingly small train car. There's enough room for a massive bed covered with blankets of extravegant fabrics and warm colors, a walk in closet, a television that stretches along the wall, and a bathroom. It's crazy having all of this just for me and no one else. I'm sure they switch out all of the clothes every year to keep the tributes up to date on all the latest Capitol trends. I walk through the already open door of the closet and a bright light in the cieling turns on by itself. Most of my time is spent digging through the elaborate sorting of clothes hanging from racks on the walls. They have lots of different sizes and colors. Even some shades of colors I don't think I've ever seen before. I'm sure this closet has more clothes than I've ever owned altogether throughout my life. I pick out a simple long sleeved sweater made of a soft gray material I can only guess is fleece.

My mother used to take me and my sister to the district square about once a year where all the shops were. She would let us each pick out a brand new outfits, usually to start off the new school year. That was when we were too young to be working for our own money. After that, she had us buy our own at the start of the school year. That is, until I dropped out of school to train for the games. I think she underestimated my bravery and didn't expect me to actually go through with it, so her and my father were both furious when I made the decision. I don't think either of them expected me to actually be selected to volunteer until I told them a little bit about how well I was doing with my training and when I started bulking up a bit. Once my mother realized what it could mean for her, she warmed up to the idea. I think she mostly just wants to live in one of the enormous houses in the Victor's Village.

I never got incredibly muscular from training, but it's enough to see that I didn't gain it all from swimming and casting nets. It's enough to easily overpower any of the outer district tributes. My real strength is my ability to use a blade. Specifically a light and slender saber that, if done correctly, I could use to bring down anything I might face in the arena. I haven't seen a lot of games that didn't have some kind of sword in the cornucopia, which is why I decided to focus my training on sword wielding. It took me a while to pick up on it, but I was more than dedicated.

I lay down on the giant squishy mattress in the room. It's strange, but I can't feel the train moving at all. The only indicator that I'm not sitting still is the green blurs of trees I can see from the window. We must have made it far already since I can't even see District 4 on the horizon. I find a small black remote on the end table to my side and flick on the TV. It comes to life immediately with recaps of the reapings. I rewind it to the beginning so I can see everything. I see who my allies are and identify any possible threats. From District 1, there's a girl that walks to the stage from the group of 17s. Her name is Celeste Ross and she looks a bit muscular and almost my height. Her almost white blonde hair has me wondering if she dyed it that color when I see her face. She's beautiful and there's no way the Capitol won't take notice of her doll-like face. The boy who gets called up next from the 18s section makes my confidence waver just a little. He's gotta be nearly half a foot taller than I am, and he looks strong enough to lift 200 pounds without breaking a sweat. The boy confidently introduces himself as Elias Elswood. His mess of bright orange hair contrasts starkly with his district partner's and he looks like someone the Capitol citizens would peg as a future victor. Attractive, strong, and confident. Thinking it would probably be better to watch this with my mentors so they can give me their opinions on who to focus on, I turn the TV off. I walk toward the dining car with my confidence still diminishing.

* * *

 **A/N:** Man, I was hoping I would get a lot more done in this chapter lol anyway pls review I would really appreciate the feedback. I intend to start uploading a new chapter about every two weeks but my schedule varies a whole bunch so who knows. Enjoy!


	3. Far From Home

I open the door and sitting at the long and obnoxiously decorated table are both my mentors and District 4's escort. Ciera is filling her tall crystalline glass with bright translucent orange liquid. The 3 at the table are all saying something about how they hope the train doesn't have to make any refueling stops on the way this year. All I can think about is how I'm going to overpower my competition. It's like my head is already in the arena while everyone else's is in a world without the games at all. When I look at the food displayed on the table, I understand how it would be easy to forget about them.

There's a tall tray of what looks to be colorful little sandwiches, neatly stacked in a tree shape. Next to these, there's delicate looking rolls shaped like roses, and further down the table there are more choices of meats than I've ever seen in one place before. There's even more dishes of things that resemble foods I've only ever heard about. It looks to be enough to feed 20 people rather than just the 5 that sit in the room. "How nice of you to join us, Marlin." I can't tell if Navia's tone is intended to be condescending. "Go ahead and dish up, but remember to save room for dessert."

I pick up a plate and I'm still overwhelmed by my options. "Wow, I honestly don't even know where to start."

"I recommend trying the pasta." Siren says while taking a bite of the same rich food she points to.

I can't even tell what's in it, but it looks to be white cheese of some kind, chicken, and a concoction of dozens of herbs and spices. "Don't mind if I do." I take a hefty serving of the stuff.

I fill the rest of my plate with sandwiches and rolls and realize that by the time I'm done, everyone else is already half done eating. Ciera sits next to Siren, so I take the last remaining seat across from Ron. "So are you going to be the one mentoring me?" Ciera asks Siren expectantly.

So I was right about her being a fan girl. "Yes and no." Siren starts off. "I'll be coaching both of you separately through the pregames festivities, and then Ron will also coach you separately to help you develop your strategies." I notice that Ron has barely said a word since I've seen him. It eerily reminds me of the way my father resigns from everything. "Enough about the games though, we'll have more than enough time to discuss them later. Let's get to know each other a little bit first."

At this point, Ciera looks like she's about to start shaking at the chance to talk to her idol. On the other hand, I can't help but be concerned about the time we're wasting. "Are you sure that's necessary? I feel like we should be watching the recaps so we can see what we're up against." I mention.

"Excuse me, are you our mentor?" Ciera's high voice somehow sounds threatening.

"We'll get to that later." Ron's says in a reassuring tone.

Without missing a beat, Ciera's tone changes and she goes on talking about herself. "I was 9 years old when I knew I wanted to volunteer for the games. I saw you win, and when the parcel gifts came through 4, I knew I wanted to do what you did and give back to our district in the same way."

Her false selflessness makes me sick, but I can understand why she would pick Siren as a role model. She's probably the most highly revered victor we've ever had. Not only is she absolutely gorgeous, but she won her games fair and square taking no shortcuts. She stuck with the trainee alliance until the last moment possible. When the end came, she used a heavy blade to take down both of the monstrous boys from districts 1 and 2. This is another reason that Ciera's angle is so careless and stupid. The audience is going to be expecting even more from this 15 year old girl since she's trying to give the impression that she's just like Siren. If she doesn't deliver, then she can kiss whatever sponsors she managed to get goodbye.

Ciera goes on to tell us all about how she has two older brothers back home and how she works in a bookstore in town since her best friend's parents own it and got her the job. At least that's all the information I manage to retain since I'm more focused on the delectable food on my plate than I am on her rambling. "I'm flattered that I could help inspire you to make it here today." Siren getting a word in must mean that she's finally done telling her life story. "How about you Marlin, what led to you being here?"

I've always struggled with open ended questions like this. It's like when someone asks you to tell them a little about yourself and suddenly you forget who you are entirely. I decide to start from the beginning. The day I decided to dedicate my life to the games. How my little sister cried and tried to talk me out of it for months after I'd started. I choose to mention how hard I worked to make it here, fishing nearly every day just to afford it. The fact that if I win, I can bring my family to the Victor's Village and none of us will have to struggle another day in our lives. I don't say this, but I think that maybe if all the stress is taken from my parents, then everything can go back to how it was when I was younger. No more distance. No more of the hollow feeling in my home that seems to hang in the air, difficult to see but impossible not to feel.

"Make sure to mention your sister during the interviews. The Capitol loves sob stories. They like tributes that have some motivation to come back home." Ron adds after I'm done.

As much as I don't enjoy my life being turned into a "sob story", I appreciate the advice. I can see why Ron is the one to ask for advice on games strategy. "Thanks. I'll be sure to mention it."

We go over lunch talking about how our time in the Capitol will be spent. With my stomach full of the richest food I've ever seen, I sit with an empty plate in front of me for the remainder of our time at the table. I forgot to save room for dessert! Navia tells us that the first thing that will happen when we arrive is the tribute parade. She says that we shouldn't have a problem there, given that we're both attractive enough for the typical District 4 volunteer. Then we'll have 3 days to train with all the other tributes before being brought in for an individual assessment to be scored on our abilities. After that, we have the interviews and the games start the day after. Simple enough.

"Wanna get to watching those recaps?" Ron asks me directly. I like him. It appears that he sees how serious the games need to be taken.

"Of course." I respond before we all move to the next car over. This room looks just as luxurious if not more than the other two I've seen. All of us take a seat on the long geometrical couch in front of the colossal TV. With a couple flicks of the switch, we're at the beginning of the reapings. I re watch District 1's reaping and the tributes look just as intimidating as before. The red haired boy introduces himself again. Elias. Somehow it seems unfitting that his name sounds ordinary like it could belong to anyone, and not something that suggests that he could use his fists to take down a bear.

"Don't worry too much about that guy, with a build like that you two could easily outrun him." Siren eases my mind about the competition. She's right, but this guy is on our team right?

At the academy, one of the things they drilled into us over and over again is the fact that our allies are absolutely not our friends. They're all in this game for the same reasons we are. No matter how close you think you are to your allies, there's nothing stopping them from slitting your throat in your sleep and bringing themselves one step closer to home. It's better that you watch your own back and sleep with one eye open. Two if possible. I need the boy from District 1 on my side just as much as I need to leave the alliance before he decides to himself when the number of tributes left is dwindling.

The screen cuts to the town square in District 2. Soon, two new volunteers are up on the stage. The girl, Ember Golding, almost has the appearance of what you'd expect from District 1. She could be a Capitol model with her tall stature and painted on face. Her brown hair falls in shiny waves way past her shoulders and I have a hard time believing that she's only 18. She's a little taller than her district partner, Crispen Slater. The 18 year old boy has olive skin and a body that's similar to mine in build, however I think I'm a bit stronger than he is. His straight black hair is combed neatly over to the side and he's dressed in a way that suggests he already lives in the Victor's Village. The tributes from districts 1 and 2 almost always display just how much money their districts have in comparison to the others.

Pretty soon, we're watching the reaping that took place in District 4. As planned, I look confident and charming. Even though she looks a little weak, my dark haired district partner pulls positive comments from the show's narrators, already comparing her to Siren. I get my fair share of praise from them when the screen cuts to me winking at the camera. It's then that I know I've definitely pulled off the heart breaker part of my angle.

Only a couple of tributes from other districts catch my attention, and even then I don't bother to learn their names. I don't have to know who they are in order to win a fight with them. Surprisingly, there's a volunteer from District 6. A boyish girl gets called up from the 16s section and shortly after, a 15 year old boy with dark hair volunteers. Probably close friends. While the self sacrifice is admirable, I find it to be a little foolish and unnecessary. Only one of us makes it back, and there's hardly any chance it will be either of them.

There's a tiny brown haired girl from District 8 who I would completely overlook if she didn't respond to being reaped by smiling. She's 14 and she's barely over 5 feet tall, so I can't understand what such a weak competitor could be so smug about. When District 9's tributes are introduced, I spot another threat. An 18 year old boy who looks to be big enough to take on the smaller boy from District 2. His stony features only add to the idea that he could be a challenge. Other than these 4, the outer district tributes are nothing worth figuring out. These games will end quickly.

Over the next hour, Navia teaches us about how to present ourselves to the Capitol when the train arrives tomorrow. The parade is the only time that the audience will get a good look at us before the interviews, so it's essential that we look our best. What we wear is out of our control completely, so we should learn how to act out there since it's essentially the only thing we will have control over. I didn't even know I had bad posture at all until she forced me to perfect standing up straight. Other than that, I just have to put on the same face I had on during the reaping. Easy.

My plate for dinner is tiny compared to the one I had at lunch, but it's still bigger than a lot of the meals I had at home. It's got a bed of grain too small to be rice sitting under a piece of lobster. I've grown tired of eating fish all the time, but one kind I never get tired of is shellfish. At the table, we hardly mention the games at all. Even though it's in my best interest to get my advice while Ciera isn't around to hear it as well, I can't help but want to plan the whole thing out right here and now. I want to have every move I make from here to the end calculated and planned to ensure my victory. I can hardly stay focused on all the conversations about Ron and Siren's previous trips to the Capitol or Ciera asking Siren pointless personal questions. I stay quiet most of the time and look out the window at the remaining twilight that hides behind mountains. Spending my time imagining possible arenas I could be thrown into. Soon, I'm laying in bed sleeping dreamlessly, giving my mind a break.

I wake up to Navia knocking softly on my door at a ridiculously quick pace. "Time to wake up! We'll be arriving in the Capitol in an hour and a half!"

Her voice is soft but a little shrill. What time is it? A quick glance at the digital clock tells me it's almost 11 in the morning. What?! I never sleep in this late. What time did I fall asleep last night? I roll out of bed and go to the shower. It's the first warm shower I've ever taken, and out of all the things I've gotten to experience since I left District 4, this one is my favorite. It feels like going outside in one of the storms we get at home around this time of year.

Picking out an outfit to impress any Capitol citizens that might see me today, I decide on a deep blue dress shirt that's similar to the red one I wore at the reaping. This one is made out of a much nicer material. After I put on a pair of straight black pants, I remember to put my sea glass in the pocket of them. I take a second to look at myself in the mirror. I'm not even in the Capitol yet, but living their lifestyle for not even 24 hours has made a difference in how I look. The soaps from the bathroom have made my skin practically glow and my hair is noticeably more shiny and full looking.

Again, I am the last to arrive to the dining car. This time, where the rainbow colored sandwiches were before there are now rich looking cinnamon rolls. I stack my plate with two of them and on the side I have two waffles. I have no intention of finishing all of it as I'm still not that hungry from last night's dinner. How do people eat so much here? Do they just have naturally bigger stomachs or something? They must, because Ceira didn't put too much on her plate either.

"Remember to listen to your stylists today. They know what they're doing." Ron says to me and Ciera.

It's true, District 4 has had the most well received costumes during the tribute parades for a while now. A few years ago the District 4 tributes were dressed as different gods of the sea from ancient beliefs. They both managed to get more sponsor gifts than they needed in the arena until they died.

It's the only real advice I'm given for the rest of the train ride. The closer we are to the Capitol, the more I crave real advice. The kind that I can't receive in front of Ciera, the girl who will become my rival. If she makes it that far. I still can't figure her out. So far, she hasn't proven herself to be worthy of volunteering at all. Could she have possibly volunteered without being chosen? I doubt she would tell me the truth if I asked her. And asking her could put me on her bad side. I might already be on it, seeing how she acted toward me last night. What do I have to lose then?

"So Ciera, when did the academy let you know you were going to be volunteering this year?" I ask as casually as I can. I want to get as many details about her training as I can. I'll be sure to make a mental note of it to see if there are any inconsistencies.

"They told me about a month ago." She replies without even having to think aobut it. Maybe I'm wrong. "And you?"

"Me too." Everyone at the table is quieter than before. It's bad etiquette to ask the other trainees about anything related to their preparation for the games in that way. It's supposed to be secretive so that no one reveals their skills until the games have started. That way no one knows what exactly to expect of you in the arena. I stare down at my food and lift one last bite of cinnamon roll to my mouth. I'm still not totally convinced that Ciera got on this train in a completely legitimate fashion, but asking her more about her training is out of the question for now. I will figure her out.

The natural light from the windows cuts out all at once. "We're here!" Navia shouts in her squeaky voice.

In less than half a minute, The light comes back. Directly out the window I can see the skyline of the Capitol. It's even more impressive in person. The tall candy colored buildings seem to reach for the clear blue sky above it. Ciera and I get close to the window to try to see as much of the magnificent city as we can. We only get to stare at it for what feels like a minute at most before the windows get dark again. This time when the outside light is returned, there's the sound of a huge crowd cheering. The inside of the Capitol's train station is packed with people just dying to see my face. It's essential that I don't disappoint them, so I smile and wave just like I did at the reaping. The roaring noise from the station only increases as the train finally pulls to a complete stop.


	4. Marching Forward

In a flurry of attempted organized motions, Ciera and I are escorted separately just out of reach of the crowd around the train. The craning cameras are trained on every detail of our faces, shining bright white light to indicate their presence. The peacekeepers on either side of me lead me through two glass doors separate from Ciera. With an almost inaudible hiss, the doors close themselves in front of us, and the elevator accelerates upward with no warning. I hardly feel it lift at all. The motion is reminiscent of the way the train glided so smoothly along the tracks. Seconds later, the doors are opening again, and a painfully white room opens up in front of me. I'm handed over to a new handful of people all dressed in a similar fashion. _Can they actually use that as a uniform?_ I wonder as I study the long white coats the 3 women (I think) are wearing. They're all wearing the same raincoat-like jacket that reaches their calves, then curls up like flower petals on the bottom. Their petals appear to defy gravity and take up an almost uncomfortable amount of space around them.

I'm then whisked away by the bouquet of a prep team to yet another white, sterile looking room. For an unmeasurable amount of time, I'm subjected to stinging chemical baths, scrubbing, shaving, and painful tweezing on nearly every part of my body. Is anyone actually going to be seeing this much of my body anyway? It's a lot of pain and effort for not a lot of payoff, since when it's all over, I feel that I still look the same. The only differences are so small, like how my nails and are clean and almost unnoticeable scars on my hands have entirely disappeared. Now that the team has bumbled off and left me alone to sit on the cold table, I can admire their work. My face has been shaved closer to the skin than I knew was possible and my hair feels thicker and appears shinier. My skin feels tender to the touch after being forced to endure so much torture. I'm not sure if it's because of my skin's sensitivity or the fact that I'm entirely naked, but I feel far too vulnerable for my liking.

I'm left alone for what feels like hours, but the digital clock on the wall tells me it's been just under thirty minutes. Nothing makes me more jittery than waiting on something for an undetermined amount of time. That's why using a line was always my least favorite method to fish with. On days when it was required that I use one to catch certain fish, I'd always try to come up with stupid games to play with the other kids onboard in order to keep myself from counting every minute that passed. Tongue twisters tended to be my favorite. I used to practice them by myself when I was alone so I could effortlessly say every phrase a hundred times while everyone else fumbled after their first try. _Six slippery snails slid slowly seaward._ I've never seen a snail on the beach, but most of the phrases are complete nonsense I guess. I'm shaping the vowels and consonants in my mouth when the door to my right opens to reveal a figure clothed entirely in purple feathers.

"My, it is a pleasure to finally meet you, Marlin. I'm Fuchsia, and I'll be your stylist during your time here."

Her voice is low and slides from word to word. she shakes my hand and her palms feel as wrinkled as they look. I already know who she is, as she's been making appearances as one of District 4's stylists for nearly a decade now. Unlike most of the people I've seen from the Capitol, she neglects to hide her old age. Instead, she seems to revel in it, decorating the creases in her face with a series of tiny amethyst-like stones.

"The pleasure's mine." I say somewhat sheepishly.

"Television has done wonders at capturing how handsome you are, but you are absolutely _stunning_ in person." Her eyes are wide as she speaks.

"Thank you." I reply quietly. Normally, I live for compliments, but it feels invasive after the hours of being poked and prodded with tweezers. And my nudity of course.

She goes on pitching her ideas for what I'll wear in the parade in a way that tells me I'm not getting much of a say in what I'll be wearing shortly. I'm not even listening to what she has to say in her thick Capitol accent most of the time. Soon enough, the prep team is back, assembling my outfit on my body using netting, lots of dye, and strange materials I couldn't name if I tried.

* * *

Standing on the stationary chariot, I feel even more naked than before when I was actually without any clothes. What I wear now isn't much of a step up. Rather than putting all of their effort into something for me to wear, it seems that Fuchsia's plan was to dye and contour my body to ensure that I would be the main focus tonight. There's netting that eerily resembles the ones back at home that cover's the bare minimum, and every other part of me is a soft sea green. I keep noticing light sparkles on my cheek from the corner of my eye that remind me of a flashy imitation of fish scales. The golden crown on my head feels heavy when I turn and look at what they decided to do with Ciera.

She's wearing a long black dress made of a scaly texture similar to the one painted on my skin. I silently wish that I was given to her stylist instead, since hers decided that being fully clothed was in this year. I notice a deep blue stripe that runs down the side of her gown, and then I realize where the inspiration for her look came from. _Iris fish._

In District 4, the iris fish we catch are a dark silver, almost black color. They swim in schools just offshore, and we net them so we can catch 10-20 fish in one go easily. We learn in school that a tiny fraction of these fish has a rare genetic mutation that causes their flesh to be poisonous to humans, something that was introduced by the Capitol during the war to destroy our food supply. If you're unlucky enough to eat one by mistake, your heart will probably fail before you can even finish your meal. The only noticeable difference between what's safe to eat and what will kill you is the tell-tale blue stripe under their bellies. Every once in a while, the crushing quota deadlines cause one of these to get overlooked when canning fish, and a very unlucky person will end up dead at the dinner table. I remember hearing about it happening around once a year, something that probably never happens with the supply we ship to the Capitol.

Ciera's imitation of the creatures is both elegant and terrifying. I'm sure the subtlety will be missed by the ignorant Capitol audience, but it will draw attention from back home for sure. She smirks when she notices me admiring her.

"Nice get-up." She giggles at me.

"Shut up, I don't wanna hear it." My reply is harsh. Harsher than it needed to be, but I don't care. It's like I was sent here with this girl just so she could get on my nerves.

"Whatever. You might not like what your stylist did to you, but you'll love when _they_ start cheering for you. I'm sure everyone's really going to enjoy seeing this much of you. So deal with it." She nods in the direction of the doors ahead of us where the muffled noise of the crowd can be heard.

The venomous tone of her voice tells me that she's angry. Angry? No, she's definitely jealous. She's worried that I'll outshine her here. This inspires me. I _have_ to make a bigger splash than she does. Ciera is right. Now isn't the time to be shy, and I'm not going to just "deal with" this stupid outfit. I'm going to bask in the attention it brings me. Ahead of us, the doors open and a voice booms out.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, meet the tributes of the 90th Hunger Games!"

The white horses pull District One's chariot forward and into the light of the sun that's just begun to set. Immediately I see both Celeste and Elias blowing kisses to the crowd, and the roaring goes from loud to overwhelming. District One has a habit of producing crowd-working tributes. These two are no exception. With Elias dressed in a heavy red robe and Celeste in a short white dress adorned with obnoxiously sized bows, the pair makes a fantastic impression as the first tributes out.

District Two follows them, but fails to deliver the same impression. Crispen is dressed head to toe in a metallic suit, appearing to be going for an ancient warrior's look. Somehow they even managed to diminish Ember's beauty by giving her an altered version of what looks like a miner's clothes. Usually it's District 12 who tries to pass off mining clothes as a look, but it looks like her stylist is trying to push the boundaries of tradition. I doubt whoever designed it will have work next year if Ember doesn't pull any sponsors as a result. Districts 1,2, and 4 generally have phenomenal stylists.

My eyes are trained on them when my chariot starts moving. I hadn't even noticed District 3 go ahead, but when I glance over, I see that they're not much of a sight either. In fact, I have to look away from the lights on their clothing to spare my eyesight. The obnoxiously bright light emanating from them is counterproductive. There's no way anyone's going to want to look at something so blinding for more than a few seconds.

Before I know it, the world outside of the stables opens up to me. My ears almost hurt from the noise the crowd is making, and the air has a slight chill to it. I can almost feel all the eyes that are focused on me in the audience and I wave to whoever's out there that might be giving me the slightest bit of attention. _I hope one of you has money you're giving to me_. My smile is wide and only a little bit forced. Seeing my own face on one of the large screens up above lets me know that I'm doing everything right so far. I try to scout out whatever camera they're aiming at me and look directly into it. When I look away, I see that it's trying to capture my entire figure. I smile through my discomfort and try to remember that this is making me money.

One by one, our chariots pull up around the city circle and the horses halt with no command. I'm astounded when I think about how well these animals are trained. Were they bred to follow orders like this?

"Welcome, tributes, to the 90th Hunger Games!" President Snow repeats as if she hadn't heard the countless announcements reminding us of why we're here. "Each and every one of you is a long way from home and I am absolutely thrilled to be seeing your brave faces. Everyone, let's give these marvelous young men and women a hand!"

The roar of the crowd increases once more. It's obvious that our president loves the show business aspect of the whole thing. "I hope that your stay here in our beloved Capitol city is everything you've ever dreamed it would be. May the odds be ever in your favor. Happy Hunger Games!"

The televisions on the walls take a moment displaying each of our faces, and with that, our horses begin trotting without command toward the mountainous tower in front of us.

* * *

 **A/N:** Just dropping a short (and rushed a little bit low key) chapter to let you know I'm not dead lol and neither is this story. Since March I started working about 60 hours per week and couldn't find time to update this or go on FF so I let it collect dust. Now I go to school fulltime AND I work 40 hours per week so I'm not planning on holding myself to an update routine, I'll kinda just do it when I feel like it. Fun fact: I wrote most of chapter 4 back in March, but never finished or uploaded it and then it accidentally got deleted rip. Anyway, here's this I guess.


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